


Ivy and Thorns

by osprey_archer



Category: Ella Enchanted - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“The language of flowers,” said Manners Mistress, looking over the finishing school garden with a dreamy smile that usually meant she was thinking of the king and queen. “Ah! Is there a language in the world sweeter, more delicate, more suitable for gentle maidens than that of our petaled sisters of the garden?”</i>
</p><p>At finishing school, Ella and Areida learn about the language of flowers. Hattie, as usual, gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ivy and Thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [automaticdoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/automaticdoor/gifts).



“The language of flowers,” said Manners Mistress, looking over the finishing school garden with a dreamy smile that usually meant she was thinking of the king and queen. “The sweet forget-me-nots that bespeak true love, the deep foxgloves that accuse the beloved of insincerity, the delicate periwinkles that whisper of true friendship...ah! Is there a language in the world sweeter, more delicate, more suitable for gentle maidens than that of our petaled sisters of the garden?” 

Areida and I glanced at each other, stifling grins, then hastily arranged our faces into expressions of polite interest as Manners Mistress turned from the garden to look at our class. Manners Mistress thought grinning the height of rudeness. 

Manners Mistress gave Areida and me a long look. She knew our innocent expressions were not to be trusted. But then she clapped her hands together. “Go pick your bouquets,” she ordered. “And remember,” she called, as we began to disperse, “the flowers must not only hold your message. They should look and smell well together, too!” 

For once, I wanted to fulfill Manners Mistress’s order. The garden reminded me of Mandy’s, and despite the fact that Hattie used it as a place to give me orders, I liked it more than anywhere else at finishing school. I couldn’t wait to explore it with Areida. 

But before Areida and I could start out, Manners Mistress came up to us. “Ah, Areida,” she said. “I wonder if I could detain you to look at the Ayorthaian lilies with me. Despite our best efforts, they do not seem to be flourishing here, and I am not sure what to do.”

Under the eyes of Manners Mistress, Areida couldn’t even cast me an apologetic glance: apologetic glances were almost as rude as grins. “Of course, Manners Mistress,” Areida said, giving my hand a quick squeeze before letting Manners Mistress lead her away. I hurried away too, hoping to hide before Hattie caught me. “Probably the lilies only need a good singing,” Areida continued, her musical voice floating over the flowers.

“Singing?” said Manners Mistress, surprised. 

“Yes, singing,” said Areida. She sounded almost as surprised as Manners Mistress. “Plants love to be sung to...” 

I had almost made it around the arbor and behind a screen of hollyhocks when Hattie’s hand descended clawlike on my arm. “Come with me, Ella,” she ordered, and dragged me away to a rose trellis far from the other girls. “Look at the thorns on these roses. Just think how they would hurt my hands!” she said, admiring her smooth fingers. 

I imagined the rose thorns digging furrows into Hattie’s skin, and smiled.

Hattie frowned, and I wished I had restrained myself. “Pick my flowers for me, Ella,” she ordered. “I want red roses and forget-me-nots and a single white calla lily.” 

I could have sung. Only the first of her sentences was an order, so I didn’t have to get the flowers she requested. “Yes, Hattie,” I said, and swiftly started to move away, already plotting the perfect bouquet for Hattie: narcissus for egotism, foxglove for insincerity, and of course thistles, which meant _retaliation_. 

But Hattie knew some of my tricks by now. She added quickly, “Get me _only_ the flowers that I’ve asked for. And they must all to have pretty blossoms, not moldy or spotty or past their bloom.” 

I marched off before she could add anything else, my fists clenched at my sides, trying to think of a way to get around those orders. What a bouquet it would be, like something a lover would give in a story! Roses and forget-me-nots meant love, and a calla lily meant _magnificent beauty_. 

At least the red of the roses and the purple of the forget-me-nots would clash. Manners Mistress would be far from happy about that. 

It took me a long time and a lot of thorn scratches to get Hattie’s bouquet just as she wanted it. Our time in the garden was almost up before she pronounced the forget-me-nots perfect. “Go put together something or other for yourself,” she said, waving me away with her unscratched hand. “I wouldn’t want you to go without supper for failing to do the assignment.” Because if I did, she wouldn’t have the chance to order me to give her my dessert. 

But before I could throw together a bouquet for myself, Manners Mistress came up to us, still trailing Areida, who held a bouquet of golden lilies mixed with lilies of the valley. Her bouquet was beautiful, and my lack of a bouquet seemed even more conspicuous to me. 

But Manners Mistress didn’t even glance at my empty hands. Instead, she frowned at the bouquet Hattie held. “This is a very forward bouquet,” Manners Mistress said. “True love! Magnificent beauty! Why, it is a bouquet for a rank coquette. What would the king think?” 

“Oh, but it’s not mine, Manners Mistress,” Hattie said quickly. “I’m only holding it for Ella.” She thrust it back at me, and when I didn’t take it, she said, “Tell Manners Mistress that it’s your bouquet, Ella.”

Manners Mistress and Areida looked at me, Manners Mistress accusing and Areida concerned. Areida knew it had to be Hattie’s bouquet. 

I looked at the ground, fighting the urge to speak. But the curse pressed on me. My head pounded and my lungs seemed to sear my chest. My face flushed scarlet from the strain, and I knew that blush would only make me look more guilty. 

“It is my bouquet,” I said, taking it from Hattie. As soon as I’d obeyed, the pounding in my head went away, and suddenly I had an idea. “I picked it because thought it would be useful to know what to do if a suitor sends something so forward,” I said, looking up at the Manners Mistress as modestly as I could. I did not dare sneak a glance at Areida.

Manners Mistress considered me sharply, then seemed to relax. “Well,” she said. She nodded, slowly at first, then more decidedly, and took the bouquet from my hands. “Indeed, that is a very good thought, Ella. But perhaps you should gather a more...seemly nosegay as well. More redolent of maidenly feeling. There should be time to pick just a few more flowers.”

“I’ll show her the Ayorthaian lilies,” Areida chimed in. She slipped her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. 

Then, to my delight, Manners Mistress turned to Hattie. “Where is your bouquet, Hattie? Have you simply been standing around the garden all this time without picking anything?” 

While Hattie squirmed under Manners Mistress’s frown, Areida and I slipped away. Areida handed me her little bouquet. “Ayorthaian lilies,” she said. “They mean kindness, because the more you pick, the more they grow.” 

I pressed my face into Areida’s lilies. They smelled like vanilla. “They’re beautiful,” I said, handing them back to her. 

“They remind me of home,” said Areida, smelling them too. For a moment a wistful look settled on her face. “My mother is a wonderful gardener. Every Summertide we decorate the whole inn with garlands and bouquets...” She shook her head and waved a hand slightly, as if brushing away cobwebs. “I was sure that was Hattie’s bouquet,” she said to me. 

“Because it was so unsuitable for a demure maiden like myself?” I said, casting my eyes on the ground and clasping my hands, the picture of modesty. But despite my playacting, I felt a hollowness in my stomach. Although Hattie always made sure to give her orders in secret, I often had to follow them while the others were around, and of course Areida had noticed and wondered about it. No one would clip Hattie’s toenails without being forced to do it. 

“You wouldn’t put together true love and more true love and magnificent beauty. So dull! No, you would have made a bouquet of foxglove and narcissus and told us a dark tale of selfish betrayal,” Areida said.

That did sound like something I would do. 

“It was Hattie’s bouquet, wasn’t it?” Areida pressed. When I did not respond, she added, “I wish you would tell me what hold she has on you.” 

I wished so too. If only my mother hadn’t ordered me not to tell anyone about my curse, I would have told Areida everything. I knew that she would never misuse it. Even now, concerned that she had pressed too hard and hurt my feelings, Areida said gently, “Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.” 

“I can’t,” I said miserably. If only Areida would order me to tell her! But Areida would never order me to do anything. 

And she didn’t press me anymore. Instead, she gave me three of her Ayorthaian lilies. “If we hurry, we can pick a nice nosegay before Manners Mistress calls us inside,” she said, plucking a periwinkle and handing it to me. 

Ayorthaian lilies for kindness, periwinkles for early friendship. When Manners Mistress rang her little bell to call us together, Areida hastily added a curl of dark ivy to the bouquet, which strengthened the gold of the Ayorthaian lilies and set off the periwinkles. 

“Ivy,” Hattie said waspishly, sneering at my little bouquet. “What a common plant! Of course you don’t know any better, hanging around cooks and innkeeper’s daughters all the time. What would the king think?” she added, echoing Manners Mistress.

“Ah,” said Manners Mistress, bestowing on Areida and me a rare look of approval. “The king would think ivy an excellent addition to any bouquet, for that plant means loyalty.” 

***

I saved Areida’s bouquet between the pages of my magic book. They dried swiftly there, but such is the magic of the book that to this day, I can still smell their sweet scent when I open to that page, and it always carries news of Areida.


End file.
